It hits me at random that I don't know enough about Liberty. She's wearing my sweater that has been in the back of my closet for a year. She can keep it now, I don't have much use for it anyway. And while I don't know much about Omar either, the fact that all three of us got stag mail has somehow unified us.

There is a big, fat elephant in the room doesn't seem to bother anyone. It occurs to me, several times, that Lib has blood on her hands. In a way, we do, too. I was her getaway driver even if the douche deserved it but the law rarely takes these things into consideration.

Anyway, this doesn't change the fact that I'm still skeptical about them. While we eat buttered toast in a triangle on my cold mattress, discussing money making schemes, I wonder if I can really rely on these two in a high risk situation like an armed robbery.

Omar brings up the gas station close to good-will. I know exactly which one he's describing, I've seen it a couple of times since I've moved here. In my head, I can see an escape route coming together but I've also, always seen it completely empty.

"They won't have much," I bite my toast, licking the butter off my top lip. "Not many people drive up there. Plus, I wouldn't be surprised if the owner's packin' one."

"It's Atlanta," Lib says as a matter of fact. "Everyone's packing one."

"We'll take one too, then," Omar suggests.

"You have a gun?" Lib asks, mirroring my slight surprise.

"No but my roommate does," he explains. "I can borrow it off him."

The thought of committing armed robbery gets my adrenaline going, the whole prospect lifting off the page and into real life. My stomach twists into knots and I excuse myself to use the restroom.

When I walk back in, Lib is scrolling on her phone and Omar's still on my laptop.

"Find anything?" I ask, settling down to my place between them.

"No," Omar pushes the laptop down his legs, towards me. I pick it from him and turn it so I can see the screen.

I read over the article he's left open, briefly meeting his concerned gaze. Without saying anything, I know he doesn't want me to say anything out loud. The police have found Andrew and by the looks of it, so have the local news reporters. The report doesn't say if Andrew's dead or alive but just that he's been taken to the hospital. No mention of a suspect or a description of Lib's wavy blonde hair and trim stature, is a good sign. A very good sign.

I close the browser just as Lib puts her phone down on her thigh.

"I want to hit Andrew's house," she announces.

I think Omar's mouth swings open with the same speed mine does. No way. Absolutely no way. We are staying away from Andrew's family and the cops. There is no way.

"Hear me out," she looks at the pair of us, holding a hand up. "Andrew's in the hospital which means his family probably isn't at home right now. They are either at the station or with him at the hospital. I know Andrew's family has money, I've never been so sure of anything else. If you want to hit, hit big. Or none of this will be worth it."

"It's too risky," I shake my head. "They will recognize you if we get caught and then we really will all die behind bars."

"That's what the disguises are for."

"No," I say. "No, this is a stupid idea. I'm sorry but I don't think we should be anywhere close to the guy you just stabbed."

"Just how much money are we talking about here?" Omar asks, his fingers on his chin thoughtfully.

"They have a safe, it's where they keep cash. Don't ask me, I don't know what their deal is with banks. But even if we're unable to crack this safe, they have things we can pawn off. Easy money."

"You're kidding me, right?" I say, exasperated.

"It's not a bad idea," Omar glances my way.

"Does anyone know how to crack open a safe here? No? Just as I thought. This is a bad plan," I tell them.

"Do you want to leave your brother behind something or not?" Lib snaps at me. "We'll ransack the home and you'll be able to leave with so much more than you thought. These people deserve it, Ben. Think of it as a kind of justice."

My eye squints a little as I think about it.

"How do I trust that you aren't setting us up?" I ask the difficult question, it had to be voiced.

"You can't. Just like I can't trust you won't give me up," the muscles in Lib's jaw moves as though she's gritting her teeth. "But you gotta do it anyway, for your brother. Because none of us have that much time left."

Omar is quiet and so am I for a while. I don't know how to respond to her. She's right about one thing though, that none of us have much time left.

"Make your decision because if we're doing this, we gotta do it now."

"What do you think?" I ask Omar.

He stares down at the mattress, clearly weighing his options. "I'm down. If it'll get you the money you need to leave your families, we'll do it. But after this, we go hunt my guy."

"Ben?" Lib looks at me.

"Okay," I take an unsteady breath in. "Does anyone have any ski masks lying around?"

Lib smirks and Omar looks almost as unsure as I do. We get up and decide to take Omar's car just because of the incident back at the bar. We don't want to do this heist in a flagged car. We don't have ski masks but instead, Lib ties a cloth over her head like a scarf and takes my shades. She looks like a French granny, sitting at the back of the car.

Omar takes off his jacket and pulls his hood up. With his sunglasses on, you can barely tell apart his features. I feel most vulnerable with just a black hat so we stop at a convenience store on our way. I pick up a couple of bandanas while Omar and Lib wait in the car. The guy behind the counter is barely awake as he prints a receipt out for me.

"I don't need one," I mumble, taking the bandanas and leaving before I get a response.

I tie the dark green bandana, spotted with white motifs around my face, hiding everything under my eyes.

"I have an idea," Lib says, taking a red bandana from the top of the pile. "We can call ourselves the sticky bandits."

"From home alone?" I let my hands drop from the knot I've tied behind my head.

"Yeah."

"I think it's best we don't call ourselves anything," Omar says, making a turn.

Lib fills us in about the house and its security system which she claims to know the password to. Our plan rests entirely on this presumption that Andrew never had it changed from when she knew him. I'm skeptical, in fact, I'm more than skeptical. I'm growing worried and my stomach growls, earning a judgmental once over from Omar as he drives. I really need to use the restroom again but we're almost there. I guess I'll just have to wait it out. Grrrgh. Fuck, there it goes again.

When we arrive, I can already tell which of the houses it is. It's the one painted completely white, from the steps to the porch all the way to the arched roof. It stands out despite being neighbored by mansions of similar size. Omar parks the car on a side road, adjacent to the entrance of the home. None of the lights in the house are turned on which I'd like to believe is because nobody's home.

"Looks like you were right," Omar unplugs his keys. "Looks pretty quiet to me."

"Lets give ourselves exactly ten minutes," she gets down to business. "We'll set our timers as soon as we're in so nobody's late. Ten minutes, grab what you can. I'll tackle the safe."

"Are you sure-"

"Yes," she interrupts Omar. "You have your bags. Fill them with anything that looks expensive. You'll find a lot in the living room and in the master bedroom."

"Where do we meet?" I interject.

"We'll all meet back at the car."

"And what if someone doesn't make it back in time?" I ask.

"Don't be late then," she shoots back.

"Nobody's leaving anyone behind, okay?"

We look amongst ourselves. Omar's the first to give the reassuring 'okay'. I follow and then Lib after me.

I think about Michael, it brings me some kind of added boost to identify I'm doing this for him. We get out of the car, identities locked beneath our bandannas. Every step feels like I'm drudging through a movie montage and it isn't until Omar and I break open the back door, that this montage becomes incredibly real.

"You have one minute, go!" Omar turns to Liberty who is already two steps ahead of us, charging to the security panel on the wall in the corridor.

She taps on the screen and I swear I can hear a timer ticking somewhere in the back of my head. If this doesn't work, the whole plan crumbles. I'm closest to the door in case we need to flee.

"Come on, hurry up," Omar says and we watch her type in the password.

Forty five seconds.

Forty-four.